Blackened Memories
by xRestlessme
Summary: Elle meets two brothers that seem to know her, seemed to know her. She wants to remember them and has flashes of old memories.


**Title:** Blackened Memories  
**Fandom:**Heroes/Supernatural  
**Rating:**I suppose PG13?  
**Warnings: **Spoilers for season 3 of Heroes, up to current episodes of SP  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own it.

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She crashes through the window, glass embedded into her shoulder.

Blinking past tears of pain, she forces herself to recall that she's been killed; this is nothing.

Electricity crackles around her; from her.

Eyes blaze bluer then ever before and burning flesh fills the room.

The body slumps to the ground lifeless.

(Once again.)

Breathing heavily, she stares at the body before her, not sure of what to make of it.

It's not every day you visit grave and are attacked.

(By said body you were visiting.)

Desperate sobs wrack her body, as she slowly slides to the ground in a heap.

Hands curl in blond hair, as she brushes it out of her face.

The police find her that way the next morning, called because of public disturbance.

Sitting in lone jail cell, she refuses to tell them her name, even look at them if possible.

"Look at the little girl, she's probably taking our business," crackles an old whore.

Angry, she turns wanting to call blue sparks out to play.

"Ms Rosen, you're free to go. Both your brothers put up bail," calls policeman, the man who actually arrested her.

Still glaring at the old prostitute who smiles back, she jumps as he taps her on the shoulder.

"I said it's time to go. You can find her on the side of the highway later if you want to continue the little spat," he explains, lip curled into a frown.

Her own face mirroring his, she let him guide her off into the front of the precinct.

"Allison! We were so worried," called a tall man, enveloping her in a hug.

Eyes wide, she looked at the shorter man besides them, who glared at her pointedly.

"Gee. Thanks so much, we'll be going," he spat out, grabbing her arm and pulling her towards the exit.

She's frightened and freaked out, cringing as both men turn around to face her as they stop besides a car.

Glancing past them, she lazily observes the car, trying to recall why it's somewhat familiar.

"Now you gotta explain why you just up and left. We may not trust other hunters, but you can't just leave in a hunt. Especially without saying so, thought you'd died," the shorter man angrily said, eyebrows drawn.

Cocking her head to the side, she frowned.

She had absolutely no idea who these men where, why that voice seemed so…familiar.

"I really don't know you two. This is my first time in Colorado, so I'll be going," she murmurs uselessly, eyes dull. This was supposed to be one of her last missions from her father, but then again…he was dead.

So what did it matter if she still decided to cling to his memory?

The two men exchanged a look before the taller one sneezed.

"_Christo._"

Eyebrow raised, she glanced at her watch with a sigh.

"Anything else, because I should possibly be heading on. There is actually someone on my trail," she explained, too tired to bother flirting. Both of the men are cute though and she's rather tempted, if only for a moment.

Taking a step back, a hand clamps down onto her shoulder and she starts.

"Your name is Allison right…?" he slowly questions and she shakes her head confused.

Realization sparks within her like a wild fire and her eyes blaze.

She is Allison…she was Allison only a few years ago.

_Just another cover to follow two evolved humans or so they thought._

But she couldn't remember anything from that time, not even tying her own shoe.

"I'm not Allison anymore, sorry boys," she explains, barely keeping the anger out of her voice.

They are _her_ memories, she deserves them.

The hand tightens on her shoulder and she reacts as only she can.

Hand grips his forearm, electricity cursing into his nerves.

"What the hell," the shorter one starts as blond woman kicks her leg out.

"Sammy, you okay?"

Sam looks up, eyes dark and confused as he watches the blond run away.

"Yea…I'm fine."

_______________________

Flipping her hair out of her face, Elle leans over the counter provocatively.

"I _swear_ I'll be able to find my wallet tomorrow in the light. It's just…so dark, I'm afraid," she pouted, looking down.

The old desk clerk seemed flustered as he glanced around the empty lobby.

Lips twitched upwards as he reached for a key on the wall behind him.

"Thank you so much! I could just kiss you, but won't because it's quite rude," she explained, snatching the key almost hungrily. It's been days since she's slept in a real bed, not rental car or park bench.

She supposes it can't be good for her, in the condition she's in.

A condition she'll ignore as long as possible because the thought is frightening and all too real.

Spinning key around her finger, she heads down the carpeted hall, eyes glancing at each door's number.

The room is small and cramped, something she expects from a free room.

Before all this happened, and she had to do was flirt and she got the penthouse.

But as the months pass, she slowly begins to gain weight, just enough to notice. She doubts anyone can really guess the reason for it though; even it took her a while.

Lying down on bed, she shuts her eyes to try to dream, try to block out anything she can.

_Eyelids flutter, clench tighter._

_Fire runs along her body, chains run through her skin and she can only scream._

_Hot pain rushes through her, claims her; marks her as its' own._

_His face is clear, clearer than anything she has ever remembered before._

_The knife runs into her, blood specks his face, eyes blacker then oil._

Waking with a gasp, her hands went to cover her mouth as food rushed up.

Standing on shaky legs, she rushed for the bathroom, heaving up stolen food.

Leaning her face against cool mirror, Elle gave a shaky sigh.

She'd been dead, and it wasn't just like sleeping; like she'd imagined death to be.

It was horrific; she could still feel the knives being run into her; an unimaginable hell that could never be erased.

Leaning away from her reflection, she gave a forced laugh.

She hadn't believed hell was real, not in her wildest dreams.

Her hell had been not recalling weeks, months at a time.

But the hell she had thought was horrible was an amusement park to the real one.

Pulling on tight jacket, Elle brushed aside heels for flats.

Lately her feet had been swollen and hurt whenever she wore the strappy things.

The walk down the hall is long, longer then she's expected and she feels a sense of claustrophobia.

Peeling, gray walls begin to close in and her strides lengthen immensely.

Escaping into the muggy cold wind, she takes deep gasping breaths.

This is all too much for her, the young ignorant fool she is.

Hand nervously brushes through thick hair that's been growing faster than she can handle.

She wants to believe Gabriel saved her; saved her from the hell Sylar had put her into.

Against the motel wall, she gave a deep heaving breath.

Truth is she knows it's not him.

She's the one who cast _him_ into hell, why would he rescue her?

Eyes skimming along the mostly empty parking lot, her gaze lights upon a familiar car.

She's long ago looked it up online; an Impala.

She hasn't seen those two since they bailed her out of jail; called her _Allison._

Walking closer, her hand brushes along the cool metal, images flashing through her head.

_She laughs, drawing him closer._

"_God, could you two be any more obvious? I'm about to gag," warned a laughing Sam._

_Leaning around the seat, she stuck her tongue out at him._

Pulling her hand away as if burned, Elle stared down at the car.

That was her.

Had been her and yet…she'd never been that happy, not once could she recall.

Glancing up at dark motel windows facing her, she looked for any curious watcher.

Satisfied that no one was watching, she tried the door.

The metal door didn't bulge an inch.

Rolling her eyes, Elle shocked the door angrily.

Her head was splitting, as it was prone to do at times like these.

"Can I help you?" questioned a voice behind her, as gun barrel pressed tightly to the back of her head.

She's briefly angry that the agent in her, trained her whole life, didn't hear him coming.

His voice is easily recognizable and his name falls from her lips before she realizes it.

She doesn't know his voice, doesn't know his name.

Yet she can imagine him so clearly, and it frightens her.

The barrel draws away from her scalp, before returning harder.

Her head jerks forward from the impact as she struggles to keep her footing.

Wincing, she glances down at the reflection in the car mirror, drinking in his image.

This is her second time knowing him, and she can't remember times before that.

"My name is Elle and I think we know each other," she whispers, so confused.

She does know him, but every time she tries to recall, there's blackness.

She hates the blackness that surrounds almost all her memories.

Forever afraid of the dark.

Hand grips her arm and spins her around.

His eyes are dark and lips are curved into a sneer.

"Are you following us 'Elle'?" he questions harshly.

It's then that his eyes drag over her figure, mouth dropping slightly.

"You're …pregnant," he murmurs, gun dropping to his side, useless.

She stills at the words, something she's been denying for far too long.

Five months too long.

Lips curve into a smirk, replaced with shock as he wraps her into an embrace.

She's not used to affection anymore, the last time she'd truly showed it, _and he had killed her._

Is there any reason?

She sinks into him, this stranger she doesn't know, but does.

She knows that he smells like worn leather and cheap motel soap.

So familiar.

Minutes pass and her hands tighten around him; as if afraid he'll disappear.

"Dean," she whispers, not realizing.

He only glances at her reflection in the car window.

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